Pride and Prejudice
by Trogmorten
Summary: Deep in the smoldering wastelands a new calamity is reborn. The cycle turns and once again must our heroes defeat the wrath of a god. Sheik, a newly trained assassin is sent into the bustling capitol to be the personal guard of the Princess, while Link Is a trainee soldier with big dreams. Prejudice and differences stand in the way to their salvation and the whole world's.
1. Chapter 1

Warning! Contains mild violence and mature content (MxM). Be warned.

* * *

-Interlude-

* * *

The sky is the brightest hue of blue he'd ever seen, and the smell of grass is thick in the air. The heat is radiating off of the red mud and white marble buildings, but he is used to worse heat. After all Sheik had lived in Kakariko Province his whole life. His parent's house was in the middle of the busy city of Kakariko, the capitol of the Province, and Sheik had that particularly nagging feeling that something was bound to happen that day, whether he liked it or not.

His Knife training had gone better than he had expected, as it was the first time his brother wouldn't be there to train with him. He was not a child anymore, his ceremony of coming of age proved that much, even though it was two years ago; he was now fifteen and the bloody tear was decorating the lid of his right eye, the tear reaching the middle of his cheek. His mentor, Impa, said he might be able to move to train with needles and whips in a few months. It was a great honor, or so his father said. Not many children his age got to train with elite weapons. He was not given his traditional 'Jibal' yet- the red ceremonial cowl and turban that indicating he was accepted by the warrior's clan, but Sheik was a patient boy.

He went through a couple of breathing exercises, and stretches so his muscles won't get cold and stiff as his body started to relax bit by bit. He walked out of the large training fields and went into the

bustling streets of the city. He wanted to go to the market and buy himself dried leather fruit, but his allowance was taken by his father as a punishment of harassing his sister. She deserved it after she put a bloody frog in his bed!

So now he was currently sitting in his mother's herb garden, hiding beneath the mint bushes. He knew his mother might be upset he had sat on the basil shrub, but he could shrug it off as training. He doubted his little sister would be able to see him, hiding and camouflaged as he was. She was two years younger than him and she lacked the eye of truth that his mother excelled in, of seeing beneath trickery and seeing through the most interact spells, like the one he was hiding under at the moment.

Sheik had the affinity, but learning magic was a ridiculous thought! Had Impa not persuaded him that the best warriors had at least a couple of spells in their arsenal, Sheik would have refused outright. It was such a feminine thing to learn, the next thing they'd do would be to make him learn how to read! It was a preposterous thought, and he felt his cheeks heating with embarrassment as he lay behind a spell he himself had conjured.

It was simple, women and girls are taught in the arts of magic, reading and writing, and the men are taught to be warriors, unless of course you were a low born. Low born were not taught the high arts. They had other duties in the Sheikah culture.

Sheik felt himself slipping into a light sleep, and felt no urge to refrain himself from getting some proper rest, so he pulled himself into a tight ball, strengthened the spell and went to sleep.

As he slept in the garden, unaware of what was going on around him a courier came with a letter and at that moment something bigger had started to roll, with the shrill cry of a baby somewhere so far away.

* * *

-Chapter one-

* * *

Two years and Six months have passed since that sunny day under the mint buses, and Sheik had learned to miss those days dearly. In the time that passed, his training had taken a turn. No longer was he forgiven for mistakes, and no longer could he sneak away to slack off for a bit. Childhood was over, and reality came upon him like a hammer hitting hot steel. His mentor, Impa, had taken him as her only student for that period of time, and trained him without stop.

He no longer looked like the grass sprout he was two years ago, all long limbs and no proportions. His skin was darker now, as he was trained from the first rays of the sun until the sun set. His entire form was no longer gangly. He was erect like a viper ready to strike, every muscle in his body flexed and ready to retaliate as he stood motionless fourty feet above the ground on a thin log.

It was his final test of patience, his final show of strength. It was the fourth day now, standing on that log without moving. He was standing in the city's square, all the people going on their businesses like there was nothing unusual. They were forbidden to talk to him or help him in any way.

His vision was starting to get blurry, and he felt his strength fleeing from his body, but he stood motionless. When his mentor will decide he had had enough will the trial be blessedly over. He kept a careful attention on his spell rune, the only thing he was ever taught to read, which embarrassment him to no end; it was a thing he had kept secret even from his family. The rune thumped, in synch with the beating of his heart. It kept the air around him cool and humid, helping him overcome his worsening dehydration. It pulsed with bright color every time his attention went sidetracked.

The night was falling again, preparing him for day five. He could no longer even think, his whole being stood like a statue, his thoughts and feelings dormant under a harsh blanket of determination and numbness. A rustle came from behind him, and in the moment he felt the air shifting around him Sheik was a flurry of motion.

The kick that was aimed to his head with extreme precision was the first of the first volley of the last part of his test. His mentors and soon to be peers came to evaluate him, trying to knock him off of his pole. Every one of them had one single shot to take him out, while he had the option to fight back in every way he saw fit without leaving his pole for more than five seconds.

Sheik bent down in the spur of the moment, pushing himself off of the pole with the strength of his hands alone, bolting into the air like an arrow. He saw the pole shake violently as the man who tried to kick him flew over it and underneath Sheik, as another student hit the pole with a hammer on the ground.

They had missed, and their turn was over as Sheik landed back onto the pole, his arms taking in the shock of the impact. He resumed his stance and waited.

The next opponents who came were unimaginative, as they were only students like him, hurtling themselves at him to exhaust him before the real challenge came, hurtling spells, weapons and curses his way before tiring themselves. Impa and Neyrod were his real challenge, as both of his mentors and their attack being the final one. He hoped Neyrod would come already, he hadn't seen a glimpse of him these past few days, as the man preferred to watch from the shadows, unlike Impa who let him see she was watching him for the last couple of hours.

She was still crouched on the same rooftop in the same position she had kept for the last five hours; watching him like a hawk. He looked at her, and she returned a stony stare.

An hour passed, the students leaving him, going to their homes after their parts were done.

It was him and Impa now, in a battle of will.

The pulses of the rune started to dim, and his head turned fuzzy. Why was he even doing this trial? He was a fine warrior with the trial or without it; his red Jibal was the fair proof of his worthiness. His eyes started to close, as his head cleared of any thoughts. Impa's eyes crinkled ever so slightly. Something was off.

It was a spell! Neyrod was coming!

Physical strength and agility wasn't enough now. Sheik reached deep within him, to that bright core of magic that lay deep within, igniting it, letting it burn slowly in the pit of his stomach. He opened his eyes, and the world looked different. Everything was painfully vivid, the shadows were inkier and the lights were painfully bright. Within one of these shadows sat his mentor, Neyrod, still not seeing Sheik fully as he was busy casting the exhaustion rune.

He sprang into action as Sheik dropped on all four on the pole, and inhaled sharply. The Shadows around him evaporated into mist, entering him as he inhaled.

Time slowed as commanded.

Neyrod was halfway through the air, a short sword at hand, a dagger in the other and thirteen sharp needles hanging in the air, making their way toward him slowly.

He had neither clothes nor weapon on his person, so the only thing he could do to prevent the needles from punctuating his flesh was to hang from the other side of the pole. Ten dull thunks were heard and a grunt as three needles lodged into sheik's arms and thigh. Sheik pulled himself up, he could no longer stand on the pole as it was full of sharp steel. Neyrod was still up in the air when sheik took a carful position back on the pole and dropped the rune, now armed with nine needles.

Neyrod shot through the air toward him with neck breaking speed, his weapon poised and ready to deal damage to his student. Where was the dagger?

A flash of silver was the only warning he got. He whipped his head to the side as the knife passed what would have been his eye socket.

He felt the push of air and Neyrod was upon him, tackling Sheik, only the latter was ready. He hit the pole hard, the wood digging painfully in the small of his back as Neyrod's sword tried to bite Sheik's throat. The slap of flesh colliding was the only indication that the student was not decapitated. Grabbing his mentor's forearms for dear life Sheik pushed, using the first rune he had ever learned, 'Stun'.

The rune materialized with a great flash of bright blinding light that Sheik saw even behind shut eyelids. He heard Neyrod shout angrily, as the simple trick caught him unready, blinding him. He didn't expect Sheik to use his magic so readily.  
He caught the pole with two hands, pushing his legs into the air, circling his mentor's head. Now caught between the boys thighs, Neyrod was losing the little foothold he had. Sheik would have been mortified of the action he was preforming any other day, but he was already desperate. Pulling himself up, he now sat on his Mentor's shoulders, his nudity much more palpable now.

He used the leverage he knew he had and shot his mentor the most lewd glance he could master; his tongue flashing out to lick dried lips. His mentor's eyes opened and blood shot to his face, at that moment he wavered, and Sheik had no qualms to use it against him. He kicked his mentor's wrist as hard as he could, sending the short sword diving into the night.

Not a heartbeat after, Neyrod was tumbling through the air, disappearing into a flashing gate conjured by Impa. The man looked at Sheik incredulously as he reappeared next to Impa. The proud glance he got from the woman as he straightened made him sigh with relief.

"You can come down now, Sheik. Your trial is over."

Suddenly everything crushed upon him. His fatigue, his thirst and hunger, his legs gave out beneath him and he fell off of the pole, swallowed by the same gate his mentor fell through, and into blessed sleep.

* * *

He couldn't believe he was on stables cleaning duty on his birthday. He would have never complained about spending some time with the war-horses, but cleaning their manure was a different deal altogether. Ferrick was a dead man walking, that bastard. Link contemplated saving some manure in a bucket and stuffing it Ferric's mattress later on that day, but decided against it; there was only that much manure a man could handle a day.

He was sweating and cursing by the time he was finished all the stalls assigned to him. He stopped by on his way for sweet revenge to give Maladict and Epona a pat and an apple. They were his favorite horses in the stables.

It was high-day by the time he was finished. He walked out into the sun, eyes squinted and his long Hylian ears pulled backwards in disdain. He opened a large wooden door, leading into the blessed coolness of the living courters, stopping shortly in his room to gather a fresh, white tunic, a clean pair of boots and his brown soft cow hide pants before heading headlong for the showers.

The hot water singed his skin, but he liked steaming showers. A new round of trainees was bound to come soon, he soaped himself thoughtfully. He rubbed the small scented bar of soap through his hair, removing grime and sweat and returning the golden metallic sheen to his hair. It was a gift from one of the mages, although he could not understand their urge to make him smell like flowers.

Exiting the public shower, fully dressed and hair damped, Link suddenly notice a very peculiar thing. The corridors were empty? Where were his age mates?

"Oi!" he heard the shout from behind him as he was tackled to the floor. "Happy birthday, horse lover" Three heavy bodies hit him in a row as three of his best friends wrestled him, trying to pull a floral crown on top of his head. Ferric was the first to pull back to his feet, accompanied by Hylion and Leon, watching their handiwork as a very embarrassed Boy of eighteen stood up and tried to yank a floral crown off of his golden hair.

"It won't come off!"

"Of course it won't come off! We had the girls engrave sticking runes to it." They all smiled with triumph. A string of curses streamed freely from his mouth as his friends laughed.

"Oh, how the mighty have fallen!" Said an amused feminine voice from behind him. Link turned, trying to look as if everything was normal, and that he was not embarrassed by the crown of roses that now stuck out from his hair like a sore thumb.

"They mighty is standing quite fine on his feet, thank you, Dyna." He said, dejectedly yanking it with all his might but to no avail. She walked passed them, white novice dress swishing temptingly as she hurried by to her high-day class.

"Damn" whistled Ferric his gaze following not so discreetly after the walking girl. Link rolled his eyes.

"So, where is the good part of the deal where I get stuck with roses in my hair?"

The smiles he got from his friends shot a wave of chills through his entire body.

* * *

It was a day and a half after Sheik's trial, and three hours after he had gotten his letter. Impa had no need to explain why he was chosen for the job, or why he was sent to the royal academy for the arts of war and arcane to complete his training.

He was to be Her Highness's Princess Zelda, High seat of house Daphnese, keeper of the sacred realm and a fifteen years old girl's body guard. It wasn't fair for him to be sent so casually away from his home, away from everything familiar and comforting in the spur of a moment; but nothing in life was fair when it came to the demands of the high houses.

Although at the moment, Princess Zelda was the last thing on Sheik's mind. A piece of paper clutched in a death grip in his palm, he was headed toward the small shed that lay on the outskirts of the large graveyard. He wanted to know if his guess was right, and the note that was left for him on his bedside was intriguingly surprising. He knew he was due to meet the man only a few hours later, but Sheik was never one for surprises. He had left his parent's house and his sister's doting care with vague notions of his whereabouts.

The lock was rusted shut, and Sheik wondered whether it had been tempered with, a thing that with slight magical inspection proved to be just a paranoid thought. He favorite a drafty window over the rusted lock and slithered into the shed, waiting.

He cast a light-swallowing rune around him when he heard a small rustle of dead leaves from outside. The lock croaked when opened with skilled, nimble fingers, and the door opened with surprising silence, and a curly head peered into the shed wearily, checking for intruders.

Sheik was surprisingly satisfied as his mentor crawled silently into the shack, thick brown braid hanging from his shoulder, and never noticed the shadow lurking in the corner. Sheik heard a rustle of cloth and suddenly there was the soft light of a candle.

"Nice of you to join me"

Few blond hairs fell to the ground as a knife embedded itself in the wall right next to Sheik's head. "Sheik." He sounded surprised. It seemed like such a dumb thing to say, but it was hard to think of anything else to say above the raging beatings of his heart. Neyrod felt the anxiety climb up his spine and in front of his protégé too!

Sheik cleared his throat. "Neyrod. You invited me to come…?"

Neyrod cleared his throat as well, calming his beating heart.

"Yes, it seems that I have."

Heavy silence settled on both of them. The two men were suddenly at loss of words, even though they had been mentor and student for three years now, they were searching one another, trying to feel if there was something more to it, something the other was trying to hide.

"Your trial was excellent." Neyrod started, "I heard about the new position you are about to get" He cleared his throat, looking a bit abashed "it's a great honor….Serving princess Zelda in Hyrule castle. You must be excited." The truth was he wasn't sure he wanted Sheik to leave.

"Yes, I gue-"Sheik stopped, "I mean, it is all very…sudden and different, you know?"

"- how did you know, Sheik?" Neyrod cut in.

A soft light ignited in Sheik's eyes, and Neyrod knew that Sheik knew exactly what he was referring to.

"It was a lucky guess?" Sheik said softly, he was being evasive, but Neyrod had to know, he had to find out the meaning of that look; it passed such a strong thrill through him when they fought, when he saw that glance; but the adrenaline coursing through his veins may have confused him, or made him misjudge what he saw.

"Sheik" He didn't want to stutter, but he was afraid he might get there tonight "I- Ehm- I mean, what I meant to say was-"

"- I am here am I not?" offered Sheik, "Doesn't that mean something?" They looked at each other. It wasn't a romantic moment.

They didn't feel sparks or butterflies or all of those things, when they closed the distance, and the kisses that followed Sheik's hesitant affirmation were not soft nor sweet, but wild, rough and needy. Sheik was pushed unceremoniously against a wall, his mentor's hands in his hair, on his face, his hips, grabbing a handful of his ass. He moaned into Sheik's mouth as his tongue slithered into the warm caverns of his mouth. Neyrod's hands stayed firmly on non-dangerous areas, although Sheik felt the fire burning in him, especially now, while he was hard like a rock, and chafing lightly against his mentor's thigh.

"I think I understood it a long time ago, but never really took the time to see what I felt about it-ah!" Sheik was cut in mid-sentence when his mentor sucked on a sensitive spot on his collarbones." Neyrod" Said Sheik and the man looked up, "I'm sorry it took me so long" he had meant it, and it surprised him how desperate he felt, he didn't want to go, not now and not ever. Their lips met, and Sheik tried to say goodbye.

Neyrod kissed his throat hungrily, making Sheik squirmed a little in his grip, when he moved, they met. He couldn't contain the moan that had escaped his lips, looking into Sheik's dilated pupils, his mouth hanging open in a silent cry of pleasure as their erections grinded. Sheik had had enough waiting apparently, when Neyrod felt his hand plummeting into his pants and taking hold of his leaking cock. His head flew backwards when Sheik tightened his grip and started stroking him, softly and then harshly, caressing, loving and then forcefully and haughtily. He kissed his mentor's throat and whispered huskily into his ear.

"You told me once you'd never let me go" he bit the earlobe and pushed the man.

Neyrod sunk backwards, suddenly aware he was sitting on a crate as the haze of passion and pleasure was cleared from his mind. The nimble fingers of a lock picker undid the laces of his pants with speed, and Neyrod felt cold air hitting his red swollen, cock, not before he had to bite out a yell when Sheik took him entirely into his mouth.

Sheik was sure he was doing something right as he brushed his tongue down to the man's balls, sucking on them lightly. He went up and down, unreletlessly, not afraid and not ashamed, just admiring the man; his tongue went over the shaft, and down, biting lightly. Neyrod's hand shot down and laced through his hair, taking hold of his finely woven braid, and tugging at it, moaning loudly and pushing Sheik's head, prompting him to go faster. He couldn't contain himself anymore when Sheik bared his teeth, scarping his cock lightly as his head bobbed up and down his erection, and when he sped up and started to hum deep in his throat, he lost it completely. He felt his balls tightening and with a pleasured grunt, he came hard. He heard Sheik's surprised intake of breath, but the boy continued to suck him dry, licking the slit of his cock, never breaking eye connection with him.

He was panting heavily now, as he looked at Sheik straightening, his own erection pressed against his trousers while his torso was bare. He licked his lips. His hairs stood at attentions when a cool wave of wind passed through the shed, but he kept looking at his mentor. Neyrod sat on a crate, his shirt was nowhere to be seen, his pants still halfway down his calves and his cock was getting hard again, rising slowly as he looked at Sheik, who started unlacing his own clothes, taking his time with his pants. His muscles flexed, and his cock twitched when finally Sheik slipped his pants down fully, kicking his pants to the corner.

He had seen him naked before, at the communal showers, yes, but this was far more erotic then he ever thought Sheik was capable of being. His thought went completely blank when Sheik strode in front of him, with all his cat-like grace, and sat on his lap, a thigh at every side of him, circling him. He wrapped his hands around him and kissed his baffled mentor deeply, taking his time leisurely, licking and biting his ear teasingly, while straddled him, grinding their erections together.

Everything felt sweet and slow and not as violently passionate as Sheik would have liked it to be.

He hummed with satisfaction when he felt a hand caressing his ass non-too-gently, and a finger prodding its way to his entrance. A first finger enters, Neyrod is kissing him to hush his pained hiss, a second one joins in and he moves them around. When the third one joins in Sheik is too lost in his own private world of pleasure to notice his surroundings. He moans loudly, moving with fingers that do such wonderful things to him, he picks his ass up a little into the air, and Neyrod complies, going faster and deeper. He touches something inside him, Sheik's vision explodes and with a pleasured shout he comes all the while Neyrod whispers soothing things in his ears.

They are both gazing lustily at each other, hard anew with a burning passion and the knowledge it might be the last time they see each other for the next few years or so. They are on each other a second time, kissing, licking, biting and searching, and when Sheik feels Neyrod positioning himself at his entrance he doesn't wait and plummet down, his mentor's cock swallowed hastily by an eager body.

Sheik usually wasn't one for surprises, but this he could get used to.

They are both overwhelmed by each other, their skin is on fire and every touch ignites it anew. Sheik moves hesitantly at first, but gaining confidence as his mentor's hands catch his hips with an almost bruising touch, taking him harder, and faster, while thrusting from below into his student who is stretched wide, hopping on his cock. He moves him up and down on his shaft, his hips slapping the boy's ass making slightly wet noises that just turn him on more.

Sheik can't hold back and he goes faster, bouncing and cursing without shame while he was being invaded. He loved it, and he hated it, was this really the last time? Neyrod's thrusts become more erratic and harsher as he nears his limits. It felt so good, and so bitter, being filled and emptied, slammed into as he rode the man. Every lewd thought the man ever had on him tumbed down from his mouth into Sheik's ear, igniting his cheeks. He was having some very vivid hallucinations, every word made clear by swift thrust from behind. Then, in midsentence, Neyrod comes inside him, and the sensation alone makes Sheik see the three. He thrusts into Neyrod's hand that took hold of his straining erection, a cock still buried deeply inside him, moving erratically as Neyrod rides out his orgasm into Sheik, quite literally. he goes faster and even though pain is starting to mix with the pleasure, Sheik is too far gone to care. It was the first and last time, after all. Sheik topples over the edge as he experiences the dying rays of an orgasm, moving against his mentor, slithering, demanding more, and demanding he enters him again. They don't need to sleep, do they? But Neyrod refuses, as gently as he could.

He presents him with the most beautiful smile, sleepy eyes and a kiss, a deep one, like the one passing between long time lovers. Neyrod too was saying goodbye.

Sheik can barely stay awake after they both get cleaned and fall asleep together, in a small shed on the outskirts of an old graveyard. When he feels safe in Neyrod's arms Sheik bitterly wishes he was someone else.

* * *

The sun was barely up above the horizon when Sheik was hoisted into a merchant's cart, on its way to the crown province of Hyrule. He had bid his family goodbye yesterday. His sister had clung to his shirt, weeping on his new white Jibal, which marked him an assassin. His mother had hugged him twice, trying not to cry too much as she gave him his farewell gift, a silver set of three earrings, designed to sit one his ear lobes and one on his ear shell. She said to never take them off. They were his protection.

His father pulled him into a hug, he too wearing a jibal, but a blue one, which marks him a soldier. They didn't need to say goodbye, as he was not sad his son was leaving. He was proud and honored his son was destined for such a high ranking position within the Hylian court, and that his son was one of the few to earn an assassin's Jibal.

Impa didn't say much, and Sheik preferred it that way, they both knew he was about to carry a heavy burden, and they both knew she had prepared him the best that she possibly could to surpass any challenges that awaited him in the capitol.

He smiled a bit as he thought of his second and final encounter with his mentor. Neyrod had taken him again the morning after, leaving a wrapped gift his bed when he awoke, wrapped next to him. His gift was now securely strapped to his hip, in its new sheath, golden pommel glinting in the early morning's sun.

He looked back at his house as it shrunk away and at his hometown and province until they were all too far away for him to distinguish. With the sun fully up in the sky, Sheik cuddled in the back of the cart, putting his head on his pack, and fell into deep sleep. He felt, deep in his heart, that this was an ending, and that the beginning was about to be the toughest one he's have to deal with his entire life. So for now, he rested, unaware that he was moving with him a lot more than just him and his possession, but also a new cycle of calamity, that would rage upon them once again.

* * *

A\N- now, I know it is vague, and weird and plainly confusing- but bare it with me! Aside from the face that I am slightly intoxicated at the moment (I have read and re read this whole chapter about a thousand times, and it is **entirely different** from the original one, so do not worry)I want an honest opinion about my writing style and suggestions! I love those.. This is actually the first sex scene I have ever written, so I would like your honest opinion's and suggestions, since there will be more in following chapters. I have the whole plot down, and there is nothing to stop me! So yea!

Please leave a review- I really appreciate knowing you are there, plus, I would like to hear what you think and things you'd like to have in the story. (I seriously have to go to sleep already, I am wasting my Friday away!)

Lots of love-

-Trogmorten.


	2. Chapter 2

Sheik was shaken awake by the merchant's wife. He was aching all over and decided that he had had enough sleeping on rocks for his entire life. His muscles were sore from the uncomfortable beddings and of running next to the cart as they traveled, anyhow, it was the best way to keep his mind clear and his muscle tone in good shape while traveling across Hyrule's great meadows. He had run himself to comfortable exhaustion, if it was a thing and had slept off the noon's heat. He noted the carriage had stopped, and that the merchant and his wife decided that they had enough of sleeping on rocks too. The small inn was illuminated with soft blue light, the second sister had risen and she was looking upon them from her perch in the sky.

The inn was warm and slightly humid. It wasn't the largest inn he had ever seen, but it was of fair size. Fire was crackling in a big stone hearth that looked homey and cast orange light on the entire room. Sheik sat on a high wooden chair next to a counter which the inn mistress was cleaning with purpose. The inn mistress is a big Hylian woman with golden hair that looks well cared for, a warm smile and an elusive twinkle in her eyes that indicated of a keen mind. Sheik fishes out his small leather pouch and hands the woman a clear sky ruppe.

Soon enough two steaming plates of are placed before him. One of the plates has some kind of rice Sheik had never seen, since it is brown and slightly longer then the kind he knows. It is topped with hot, sour tomato and pepper gravy and cooked steamed slices of chicken. The second plate has two small honey cakes that look like they were made from semolina and a small plate with strawberry jam.

Sheik soon begins to eat with vigor. It was a nice change of pace to eat hot food over his cold, stale pathetic experiments on the road. He is given a small glass with sweet scented whine, which he had refused. It was clearly women's food, why give it to a young man? Were they trying to insult him?

Not long after he was resting in a small room, his belongings stashed underneath his bed, and his sword, needles and throwing knives spread on a piece of cloth, ready to be oiled and cleaned. It was good to be occupied with routine work, some good familiar work to ease off the burden of traveling. He worked quickly and efficiently, long strokes and a keen eye to the smallest scratches and stains on his blades left his arsenal in the best shape. He would be dammed if he would let Neyrod's blade rust. Air rushed out of his lungs as he finished his work and with great reluctant pulled out a heavy book from his pack. He knew he'd be singled out if anybody knew he was currently practicing reading, confided in his room, and studying magic, none the less!

The book itself was precious, bound by red leather, adorned with golden runes that to Sheik's immense displeasure he could read with a quick look. He felt himself letting go of a breath he had held. He was a warrior; it was weird that his brain had registered reading so quickly. What would his father say? What would Neyrod say?

They wouldn't say a thing, he thought bitterly, since they will not be seeing each other for the next couple of years. He shut his rumbling thoughts out; his emotions were slithering like eels in a barrel. He was a warrior, and he would endure the shame of reading and the greater shame of magic if it meant he could protect and save. He had once been told that there were two kinds of people in the world, those who killed and those who preserved. But Sheik disagreed, there was a third kind, people who killed to preserve.

Steeling himself, he put his mind in his studies.

* * *

A sword always had a certain feel to it. Some were too heavy, some were to light and some were just too damn cocky, but this one, Link decided, felt just naturally good in his hand. It didn't have the awkward feel most new swords had at the beginning, when your fingers couldn't quite grasp the hilt in the right angle, or that the leather cord chafed your palm. It was perfect.

The handle was a beautiful shade of blue styled and curved into of a pair of snarling wolfos leaping. The leather cord that coiled around the shaft was a vibrant green and white crisscrossing one another along it and a small purple gemstone was embedded into it. It changed its hue to yellow when Link raised the blade to look at the details closely. It was almost like magic. It was a beautiful blade, a true work of art and it was his. Link felt his heart swell.

Leon's soft tilted ears were already red with embarrassment as Link looked at the gift once again, awed beyond words. He had hugged his friend once, who jumped back yelping a mortified word while backing off hesitantly, face a warm shade of red, he had shrugged it off and it was soon forgotten. Leon was a pretty lad, or at least so he had heard from some of his female friends. He was relatively tall, slightly taller than he, Link noted a bit grudgingly, and he had softness to his face that made him look less intense than the other boys. Link knew first handedly that the aloft pleasantness of his features hid a keen mind, a marvel of swiftness with the sword and a stalwart man who expected a certain degree of honor from his friends.

Link scratched the back of his neck, the floral crown still resting on his head. It was one of the most embarrassing feats his friends had put him through that year, and he wished bitterly they wouldn't have seen him trying to sneak away from broadsword practice, which in turn caused them to drag him to class ad challenge him to multiple fights. It was not the fights he was embarrassed about of course, he had won them all, and it would be in bad taste to decline a challenge while training in class, especially since the female mages were watching intently, giggling behind covered arms.

But did the bloody crown have to sprout more stupid flower with every hour that passed? It was barely noon and his head was covered with multiple buds and blossoms.

Leon tried his hardest not to laugh too loud when Link had practically begged him to get the thing off of his head, some friend he was.

He looked at his friend, who in turn was doing his best to look anywhere but at Link's happy face. He thanked him profoundly again, and Leon stood up, as did Link. He looked like he had something to say, but he was cut short when a feminine voice interrupted them

"Someone might think the wrong thing about you too, hiding like that in such a…cramped… broom closet. Why, Leon you resemble a tomato quite accurately now, congratulations!"

Leon's lips drew into a thin line, his skin now marred with red splotches of shame. It was cruel to torment his with the nickname he hated the most, as It was uncalled for to insult one of Link's best friends, but Link was too pleasantly surprised to see Laral to chide her properly. She was not supposed to be free up until the night, and it was just pass high-day! She wore a flowing dress of light violet, held by ornate clasps at her shoulders, and her long golden hair held by two golden hair spikes.

She sauntered into the already confined broom closet, pushing Leon out of the way with one hand, while she pressed herself flush against Link, he could feel her breasts pressed to his chest which caused a slight stir within him. Her mouth was soon on his own in a passionate kiss, her sly hands sliding on his frame, one of them sliding closely to his more intimate parts. Link broke off the kiss, hurriedly, at least he had the dignity to look embarrassed while glance at Leon, who stood frozen by in front of him. It was true that Laral had been his girlfriend for some time now, but it seemed that Leon never got used to her indifference to the etiquette, a thing that, Link had to admit, attracted him to her in the first place.

She shot him a meaningful glance that Link missed while Leon stammered a quick farewell and fled from the small room.

"Come, Link. I have something I'd like to show you"

It was a short trip to the Laral's room, as Leon dragged him to a place far away from their rooms, seeking a quiet place to give him his present in confidence. He was in her room after a moment, and a wave of her perfume hit his nostril with full force, making him light headed.

"That was rather odd, what is the matter with him?" Link asked, bemused, his thoughts of his friends vanishing as the door closed with a suggestive click, locking them together in Laral's room, only a small light rune lit the room. He heard another click, and a rustle of fabric, and his eyes were glued to Laral, or perhaps to Laral's naked body. His jaw dropped and he took a wavering step toward her, bumping against her vanity in his haste, some of her powders fell to the ground.

She smiled and stepped forward, somehow creating an arrogant air to her, making Link feel naively inferior. She pushed him to the floor; his back pressed to a lavish carpet and mounted him. All the heat that Link's face contained was nothing in comparison to the heat pooling into his groin.

"L-Laral?" he hated sounding so insecure. He felt a thorn from his crown pricking his scalp.

"Hush." She said and started moving her pelvis against his groin in sure confident long motions, and all words just vanished from his mind. His pupils dilated and his jaw drooped as a sharp spike of pleasure run up his spine. She descended upon him, kissing him, her tongue slithering into his mouth. She made an annoyed sound when Link was still too dazed to move, and took his hands placing them on her breasts encouraging him to make an action.

They were so soft. Her skin was soft, everything about her was soft, well, maybe not the way she grinded against him, but other than that….  
It felt alien. She sounded like she was having a good time though, and he thought that maybe he was doing something wrong. Was she doing something wrong? She was busying herself with his pants, and the overwhelming feeling that surged in him made him want to retch. He wanted to stop. He didn't like it. Sure kissing was always nice, and yes, she was soft and curvaceous and beautiful, but it felt all wrong. She suddenly seemed violently desperate in the way she threw herself at him, using the excuse of his birthday to engage him in her parade of lust.

"Stop, Laral that is enough." He was surprised at how steady his voice sounded; she hummed questionably, kissing his bare chest, her hand slithering into his pants. He yelped and jerked away from her, and she tumbled to the carpet.

"What are you doing, Link?" She sounded angry than anything else, which baffled Link.

Link stood up, lacing back his pants, and reaching for his white flowing shirt and his blue uniform vest. She tried to pull him back down. "What is wrong with you, Link? Why are you so nervous? What are you afraid of, it's just sex" She sounded so bland, and business like that Link had to wonder what he had previously found enticing about her, because now she just looked a little bit pathetic, sitting naked on the floor in her room, a scowl on her face as she demanded he came back and stop being foolish. He felt tired, and confused.

"I am sorry Laral, I think this won't go," he said, passing his hand in his hair, discovering the floral crown stayed on the carpet, all magic abated. She looked like she was about to object and he steeled himself. "At all, I am sorry." He repeated, although he felt more relieved than sorry.

She looked like he had slapped her.

"Goodbye…" he finished lamely and shut the door to her room closed in time to hear something smash against it. His hand rested on top of his new sword, clutching the handle until his knuckles turned white, then let go. He shouldn't let emotions rule him so. He breathed deeply and strode toward the training grounds, searching for an easy battle or dual to win, since he felt that this was not the end he'd hear of this one.

* * *

It was silly to feel so awe-struck over a bunch of rock and marble buildings batched together, but Sheik couldn't resist poking his head out of the canvas flaps of the wagon. Hyrule's capitol, "Castle Town" as most of the residents called it, was truly a marvel of graceful architecture. It went pass him in a cacophony of calls, smells and people .Spices from the market, imported from all the provinces made the air spicy. Silks, pottery exotic animals in small ornate cages, fruits and vegetables, various meats- dried, fried, steamed, pouched, baked, all on stands waiting for hungry customers. The streets ar bustling with many people, more than Sheik had seen in his life. There are Hylian men and women, there re Sheikah too, in Hylian clothes, none with traditional clothes, and not a single red warrior's Jibal or a single men wearing a white Jibal in the crowed. It felt alien.

His goodbye to the merchant and his wife were hasty, but not skipped over. This was it, he decided, standing in front of the large golden gates of the small duffle bag that he slung over his shoulder was a good reminder for his upbringing. He didn't take much notice of the place itself, focusing more on calming himself. He never liked new beginning much, it usually meant leaving all comfort behind, but he will be dammed to show those Hylians he felt something close to discomfort. His face was a statue of serenity as he walked in a small rune hovering at the edges of his sight, warning him from any hostile intent.

He was not prepared for the amount of people or the noise that burst through the doors. It was after Highday, nearing evening, but students still littered the major hall. It looked like he had entered a ball room, everyone wore luxurious clothes and jewelry, and all had a colorful ribbon tied to their right arm. He felt ridiculously undressed for an unknown occasion. Almost everyone had some kind of a weapon on them, even the women, though their weapons were concealed by runes or that the weapons _were_ _runes_, which was impressive and a very unfeminine thing to do. It didn't bother Sheik, he felt no intent, and he himself had a couple of hidden runes under his garments, it was never bad to be cautious, as lessons with Impa and Neyrod had taught him.

With the thought of Neyrod came a pang of longing which was packed neatly in the back of his mind and squashed into his sub-conscience.

A woman was waiting for him, attired like a serving woman, although it was a disguise by the amount of runes she had sticking to her skin, carved on her hair-pins and hidden in the lapels of her skirt, she was armed for a battle and she was testing him, so it seemed. He was the first male student in the arcane division almost since the academy was founded. It didn't go unnoticed he was getting glances from the females that walked pass him. Looking down from up their noses, and the lack of long Hylian ears apparently put them out since they all made an effort to walk past quickly .They felt his magic as he held it ready at all times, his shadow was blacker and inkier than others, and he too was ready for battle.

The woman's smile could have cracked a window, and her glance was so evaluating Sheik felt she was seeing under his skin.

They walked in a silence that felt stifling to Sheik lone.

"I am Sheik of the Sheikah" he introduced himself. No last name, he had given that up when his training for the white Jibal had started, letting go of his family came later. He didn't regret it.

"I'm Ginevra, come this way" she waved her hand toward the hall he had missed; apparently she too wasn't much of a talker. She had very pale curly hair that clung to her hair-pins and the elusive scent of a perfume a serving woman can't possibly afford clung to her skin. She led him through a maze of corridors until they came to a large open patio; in the middle of it was a small arena. He looked at her, lifting his eyebrow. There was a large crowd waiting which consisted mostly of the female mages and a couple of trainee soldiers hanging 'round them.

"Evaluation" was all she said. He didn't expect it to be easy and she didn't promise him a thing, but her gaze challenged him. She let him have a few minutes to evaluate the ground, and put on his Jibal. He didn't miss her small wonder as he wrapped his white Jibal traditionally over his head, his mouth and neck. She probably didn't know the real meaning of it, the true gravity of his ceremonial cowl, but she knew strength and skill when she saw them.

The arena was sunken into the ground, and the crowd towered over the people fighting duelers like a wall. It didn't bother Sheik much, he had fought in much worse conditions, and his five days on that pole made him far less picky of his surroundings, but not less observant.

The crowd parted before him as he entered the small arena, his weapons still fastened in the lapels and folds of his clothes or nestling in their scabbards, for this was not time for brawn but for brain, and magic.

A laughing boy was pushed into the arena, the mirth was still in his eyes as he turned his look to asses Sheik, and with an unimpressed grin he deemed him unimpressive. Sheik could feel his shadow get blacker and inkier, thrumming with magic and the shadow of a smirk graced his lips. The boy cracked his knuckles and sheaths a sword from a fancy scabbard. He went for impress and not with asses when he jumped toward Sheik with a powerful jab.

Sheik flowed around the sword, and hit the back of his opponent's neck with a quick jab of his leather clad fingers. There was no use to use his magic with an opponent who was not only not serious, but also lacking. The buy yelped loudly as Sheik's fingers hit that bundle of nerves in the back of his neck.

He could hear him running at him again and decided to just flow with the movements, to warm up a little before ending the battle. He flowed over and under the blade, around the angry boy who tried so hard to stick him with the pointy end of his sword, and felt his body relax into the familiar motions. Neyrod used to train him how to dodge fluidly. He said you needed to know your body like a lover would to gain complete control over it.

It was easy to overlook the boy, who was starting to go red with shame as the crowd began to laugh at his petty attempts. Sheik darted a quick look at Ginevra who looked back at him and with a subtle lift of her eyebrow he knew they were both equally bored of the boy.

The ground thrummed as the boy charged once more, shouting in vehemence and anger, only to find that Sheik was airborne, and his calve was about to meet his face with full force. Sheik felt his opponent's jaw crack when he acquainted his face with his foot.

Then came another boy, wishing to prove himself better than the last one, only to end down on the floor with a bloodied nose. And another one came after that, but no magic was used on Sheik's part. Every time they charged him, running at full force, trying to crush him with brute force, but for no avail. Sheik remembered a time he came home battered and bleeding from practicing hand to hand fighting with Neyrod, he remembered promising himself to never embarrass him with idiotic movements ever again after he had charged Neyrod with his fist, only to receive his teacher's foot to his head, and taste a mouthful of dirt.

It was laughable now, but Sheik remembers his tears of frustration.

Suddenly the feeling of the arena changed and Sheik turned to see the next opponent. Tall and willowy the boy was all soft angles and high cheekbones. Long blond hair was drawn back from his face by two long braids the turned to one as they fell to his back. Sheik narrowed his eyes at the man's hair. Braids were meant to be worn by warriors only, not by apprentices. Apparently he was due to a haircut.

He doesn't bow, and neither does Sheik, they just look, and for a change he doesn't charge. The boy is coiled like a snake, or maybe ready to bolt like a frightened rabbit, it really doesn't matter because Sheik is intrigued

He jumps, and his hand becomes sharp like a razor, he tries to grab the boy's hair, to pull him into a kick to his midsection that will leave him paralyzed only to miss him by a hair's length when he ducks at the last moment. So the boy _was trained_. It is never good to move before the enemy strikes. He smiles when the boy becomes a blur of marksmanship as his sharp thin sword lusts after Sheik.

Time slows and for a while they flow. He can feel the boy's concentration like a dull hum in the air, and he can already notice the beads of sweat oozing from his skin as he slides once again away from his sword's reach and kicks him hard on the back of his knee. He lashes out and the connections sends such an electrifying pain up Sheik's leg it takes him a moment to understand the boy had covered himself with rune notes. Sheik's smile could shatter rocks.

Several of the girls notice when his shadow stretches, and Sheik sends small transparent fingers toward his opponent, only to discover small fingers were already crawling toward him. He looks up at his opponent; whose face is red with effort and, and sees what was hidden from him up until now - The small golden flecks orbiting around his pupils. Hylian magic, a Hylian _male_ rune caster and he was hiding it so very well, hadn't Sheik had the eye of the truth he'd be paralyzed and convulsing on the floor.

His shadows reel, and the runes start flashing in his head, one after another, building sentences, stories, whispers and wishes and he unleashes it.

Everything moves slowly, and suddenly three golden orbs flash in quick procession, flickering like a dying man's breath they pulse and shatter into razors. The air hums like and angry bee, and the metal in the room starts to shake.

Sheik never takes his eyes off of the swords, he cans see it crack and then shatter. He can see all the shrapnel digging into the boy's arms, and some lodging into his thighs. He can hear him loosing concentration when the pain pushes way into his brain violently and he can small sulfur when the rune notes burn in a flash of white. His shadow clashes into his opponent's shadow like a ram, climbing up his feet like a disease.

He falls to the ground and curls into a tight ball of misery, and Sheik can feel the edge of a knife sticking to the back of his head and he freezes. His shadow bubbles into nothing, and the boy stands up, looking triumphant albeit his heavy breathing and the blood dripping from his limbs slowly. Sheik can feel the knife retreat and he knows he had lost.

"The match is mine" he rasps and coughs, taking a step back and bowing. One fist curled above his heart, and the other resting on the pommel of his sword it is a traditional bow of respect, originated from the Hylian villages by the Zora king's domain. Sheik wonders why he had traveled so far from home when he bows back, but when he straightens the boy is already walking out of the door, followed by the shocked hum of his colleagues.

A hand on his shoulder sends him spinning, only to meet the satisfied gaze of Ginevra.

"you made him blow up his cover" Her smile stretches and Sheik expects to see small sharp teeth, "You pass. Follow me"

He doesn't feel satisfaction when the crowd hushes when he walks through because all he can think about is the small golden glint in the victor's eyes when he looked at him bowing. What was his name?

"His name is Leon" Ginevra says, and Sheiks understands he had spoken out loud. "I never even imagined he'd take that damage from you, I think he was too curious for his own good". There is no mistaking the amused fondness in her voice, and Sheik only begins to realize he was indeed so very far from home.

* * *

A\N- It took me WAY too long to finish this chapter, and I am very upset with it, though I know that if I won't start moving on with it I might just be too pissed at my brain and won't continue to write- and that is not fair for you.

There are good stuff coming up ahead though. (I seriously love Leon, you should see what happens). Please leave a review as I tediously work on the next chapters. I feel like writing a sex scene so one might be coming up.

You can make suggestion on who will participate if you'd like ;)

Until next time-

-trogmorten.


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